Tales of a Merc
by timberwolf v1
Summary: Following the death of his former commander, young John Mercer is now tasked with leading the Shadow Slayers mercenary unit. Will he be able to overcome the challenges on and off the battle field to retire in style or will he die in the quest to make a quick buck? Based on the events in Mechwarrior 2: Mercenaries. Rated T for language mainly, violence and suggestive themes as well.
1. Prologue: Coming to Terms

_~Author's note: This story is based somewhat on the events in **Mechwarrior 2: Mercenaries**.~**  
**_

**Prologue: Coming to Terms**

The cold sounds of heavy industry could be heard in the distance as John Mercer sat on his stiff cot in his tight, dimly lit office. Although the frequent clanks and shouts easily penetrated the reinforced Endo Steel security door, John paid no mind to them as he stared down intently at the partially torn scrap of paper in his hands.

_Dear John,_  
_If you're reading this, by now you know that I'm dead. This unit is all yours now so take good care of it. You have your mech and whatever money I've got left in the coffers. But listen John, first and foremost you need to look out for yourself. Don't pay attention to the politics, that will only get you into trouble, God knows I did. It's all about the money John, and you know that as well as I do. Get as much as you can for you and the rest of your future unit and retire in style in a beachfront villa on Outreach. DO NOT die on some god-forsaken rock in the middle of planetary nowhere, you hear me?_  
_Surround yourself with good people John. I know you're competent enough to lead a unit but no one is leading a bunch of dumbasses anywhere in this day and age. Again I want to stress not involving yourself in politics. Let other people worry about that kind of crap. If you're feeling patriotic for whatever reason go shoot off some fireworks instead of getting your ass killed._  
_Well that's it then. Good luck John, I know you have what it takes to be a great leader. Don't disappoint me._

_Your former Commander,_  
_Sally Harris_

It was hours before John got up from his dingy cot and walked over to the sorely outdated cooler next to his desk. Grabbing a soda, he chugged it down without abandon, feeling the cold liquid pour down his parched throat. Running a hand through his short but messy hair, he sighed deeply. It had only been a week since that fateful disaster. He along with Colonel Sally Harris had gone on what was supposed to be a simple survey mission.

"Get in, get out. Easy money", she said with that trademark smile.

"Sounds like something a brothel worker would say", John had remarked with a chuckle.

That would be the last casual conversation the two would have. John sensed something was amiss as soon as they had landed. For one, the terrain was not desert as the mission parameters had described, it was a filthy, foggy swamp. The sloshy ground made it difficult for their mechs to move. Colonel Harris's 100 ton Atlas was having particular trouble as it had landed in a rather deep pool of swamp mud. John's own 25 ton Commando fared better as he was able to navigate the light mech out of the deep swamp. As soon as he turned around, however, he was met with a horrific sight.

Colonel Harris's mech was showered in laser and projectile fire. Swiveling her mech around, Colonel Harris fired a barrage of medium and large laser fire in all directions but the unseen attackers continued to pepper her. John, so transfixed with fear, could only watch as his commander's mech succumbed to the damage. He searched relentlessly for any enemy contacts on his radar but to his frustration could find none. He was then met with one final radio transmission.

"John, GET OUT! I've already called for Beth to land at NAV ALPHA. It's only 500 meters from here, GO NOW. I still have enough armor left to keep these bastards' attention but you need to hurry! GO!"

Hesitating for a moment, John followed his commander's orders and throttled his mech to top speed in the direction of Nav Alpha. Sure enough, the dropship was in sight. John made it safely on board, but not before a shrill shriek was heard on his intercom. And then there was silence.


	2. Picking Up the Pieces

**Chapter 1: Picking up the Pieces**

Exiting his office, John leaned over the railing and looked out at the vast facility before him. Mechs of all different shapes and sizes littered the floor of the Mech Bay. This was Warehouse 32, one of many similar storage complexes for the countless mercenary units that inhabited the hub planet of Outreach. In addition to storage of mechs, monthly guild maintenance fees gave crew technicians full access to the warehouse's tools and machinery, providing state of the art repair services and reloading possible. Of course not all of the mechs here belonged to John (separate units usually shared facilities), but the one mech he gazed at did.

His 25 ton Commando had been given to him as a gift upon graduation at the New Avalon Cadet's Institute. Shifting his stance ever so slightly, John remembered the overzealous feeling of joy he had seeing the mech for the first time. Up to that point, he had been piloting small hovercrafts and the occasional Battle Armor. Now he had his own mech! It took some time for him to get accustomed to its controls but soon he was piloting like a pro. His proficiency in piloting drew the attention of Colonel Sally Harris, leader of the Shadow Slayers mercenary unit.

From then on, it was history. John had only been on board for a short while but already he was starting to see the money add up.

Checking his PDA, John noted that he had shed at least 500,000 C-bills in a salvage/search and rescue attempt for his commander. All for naught, he noted quietly in his mind. Taking another swig of his soda, he decided to take a quick inventory. What was left was approximately 1,000,000 C-Bills, his stock configuration Commando, and his worn out Rogue model carrier class dropship. His crew consisted of Beth Sanders, the dropship pilot and Marcus Hubs, the general technician.

John noted that guild maintenance fees wouldn't be a problem for a while as they only added up to around 20-30 grand a month, but he needed to get back on the field and into the fray soon. For John it wasn't so much about the money-he had lived a relatively modest lifestyle and becoming a mercenary didn't change much of that at all. No for John, it was about the thrill of combat, the unabashed pride of taking down an enemy pilot. That was what he was in it for. But he knew deep down that in order to carve out a legacy for himself, he would need money and lots of it.

John went back in to his office and brought up the Comstar interface. Scrolling through the available contract listings, he frowned. _Just a bunch of crap missions with even crappier pay_. It was true, most of the mission listings for a small unit such as John's were paying scraps for mundane tasks such as patrolling. John knew that these employers simply wanted to flex their muscles by paying off cheap mercenary units to show off their mechs. After nearly giving up, he noticed one campaign that payed well above the rest.

_DRACONIS COMBINE-TRAINING WITH HANSEN'S ROUGHRIDERS_

_The Draconis Combine is currently looking for a small mercenary unit to conduct joint training exercises with the Hansen's Roughriders mercenary unit. The Combine recognizes the importance of forging strong bonds with mercenaries and will provide expenses for all ammunition and repairs. The training will be overseen by Roughrider commander Unther "Dead-eye" Davis and will take place on the planet of Venza. While there are reports of low-level pirate activity on the planet, they should be of no concern as it pertains to this training. The training will last for one month and all units will be payed a sum of 500,000 C-Bills, with 100,000 deposited directly into your Comstar account upon acceptance. There is also a 50,000 C-Bill bonus for exemplary showings during the course of this campaign._

_Yours truly,_  
_Takashi Koroda,_  
_Draconis Combine Mercenary Affairs Liaison_

Grabbing his two-way communications radio, John called out to Beth.

"Hey Beth, what's the scoop on Venza?"

After a momentary pause, he heard a loud cackle and then a sarcastic voice,

"It's great if you like hot as hell, rocky, barren deserts"

Not one to question Beth's planetary knowledge, he simply smirked and replied "Good, because that's where we're headed. Tell Marcus to suit up, we'll be shipping out in a few hours."

A simple grunt was her response but John didn't hear it as he began preparing for the journey to Venza.


	3. Space Travel and Small Talk

**Chapter 2: Space Travel and Small Talk**

Sitting in the cockpit of his Commando, John twiddled his thumbs lazily as the familiar whurr of space travel buzzed about in his ears. The Shadow Slayers' dropship was rather small, but even so John could've spent the trip with his crew in the control room. His decision not to was a result of the adopted reasoning of his former commander:

_To be a true mechwarrior, you can't be comfortable in your cockpit. If you want comfort, there's plenty of graves all over the Inner Sphere._

_Colonel Harris had always had a way with words, _John noted_. But words don't mean much on the battlefield unfortunately..._

Suddenly the familiar crackle of the intercom broke his concentration, "Ey Captain, we're about twenty minutes from touch down."

Sitting upright, John adjusted his headset and replied, "Thank you Beth, tell me are there any shops on Venza? I sure could use some new clothes." After a brief pause to take in the laughter over the intercom, he continued, "What? I've been wearing the same old crappy camo gear ever since I joined this unit. Don't you think I should at least try to look presentable to these guys?"

A new gruff voice emerged over the transmission and John instantly recognized it as their technician Marcus's.

"Sir, shouldn't we worry more about the logistics of this mission rather than how spiffy we look?" His tone was serious and flat, reminding John of the many drill instructors back on New Avalon who he thought took their jobs way too seriously.

"Marcus, Marcus, Marcus, lighten up will ya? I'm just saying I need something better than this", John said pointing to his worn out camo clothing even though no one was around to see. "Besides, I think they have some good arms merchants on Venza as well. You should definitely go take a look."

At the sound of "arms merchant", Marcus's tone lit up like a Christmas tree. "Yes sir!" There was a brief lull in the conversation after that as John leaned back into his seat. He examined the surroundings outside of his cockpit and could see the familiar outlines and contours of the dropship despite the darkness that seemed to swallow up everything in sight. The only light source in his proximity was a dim red power saver that he had turned on in his cockpit, giving his immediate area an eerie glow.

Closing his eyes, John's thoughts drifted to their impending campaign. It sounded easy enough but as he had learned over the years, things were not always as they seemed. Thinking back to what Colonel Harris said in her last will, John hoped that Venza wasn't going to be that god-forsaken rock where his resting place would be located. _Stranger things have happened, haven't they?_, he murmured in his mind. Just as it seemed he would drift off to sleep, Beth's voice rung out over the intercom.

"We're entering Venza's atmosphere, buckle up everyone!"

Strapping in his safety belts, John prepared for the slow, but graceful descent onto the red planet.


	4. Briefing and Preparations

**Chapter 3: Briefing and Preparations**

"So...what exactly are we doing here?", asked a rather bored looking John. He was sitting in a bland, stiff chair in the office of one Takashi Korada, the mercenary liaison for the Draconic Combine.

Tapping his fingers on his desk, Korada eyed the young mercenary with contempt. He was the epitome of a DC officer, with his slicked back hair, overstyled military suit, and hard facial features. John wondered if these hard ass military types ever had any fun. Without moving he responded with a monotone voice, "What it is that you are doing on Venza, _merc_ is exactly what it said in the contract that you agreed to. You'll be here for a month, training with Hansen's Roughriders..."

John's mind soon trailed off, wondering how Beth and Marcus were doing at the arms merchant. _I hope they find some good weapons there. I wouldn't mind some LRM ammo either..._

A sudden bang propelled John off his chair and onto the carpeted floor. Picking himself up slowly, John realized that Korada was the source of the loud intrusion to his thoughts.

Narrowing his gaze, Korada simply said "Listen _merc_, I've been working with the Combine for over twenty years and I've seen my fair share of idiot kids like you come and go. If you don't even have the focus to handle a simple training exercise then I'd suggest you leave and go find some other profession."

By now John had gone silent, feeling a tad embarrassed as if he was a cadet back at the training academy.

The mercenary liaison continued to stare daggers at John with his cold, brown eyes and said rather than ask, "Do I make myself clear?"

Nodding in response, John could feel a hint of anger rising up somewhere within him, but he knew that it would not be wise to tap into that volatile well...at least not for this occasion. Korada meanwhile did not seem convinced, but began laying out the campaign parameters.

"You and your crew will be staying at the Venza Springs barracks. Be thankful _merc_, it is more four star hotel than it is military sleeping quarters. Your first mission tomorrow is a simple survey of the Venera Valley, you'll be accompanied by Commander Unther Davis and his lance. You are to report at exactly 08:00. Commander Davis will fill you in on the other details of the campaign later. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well then." Taking out an inconspicuous sheet of paper, Korada instructed John to "sign the contract."

John did so eagerly, having shaken off the earlier lapse in concentration. It was the first contract that he had officially signed as leader of the Shadow Slayers and he was more than happy to get started. Once the contract had been signed, Korada stood up and offered his hand, which John shook though the formality was far from friendly.

"Good luck and best wishes _merc_..." said Korada as he showed John the door.

Hearing the door thump behind him, John knew that there was nothing more to do there. He walked over to the balcony of the office complex and looked out at the cityscape of Trachon, the planet's capital. The sky's eerie purple haze was contrasted by the constant stream of headlights emanating from the countless hover crafts floating about as well as the luminous skyscrapers that were clustered throughout the city. Looking down at the carbon copy of the contract he had signed not five minutes earlier, John let out a big sigh and thought to himself, _First campaign...here we go._


	5. Deadeye

**Chapter 4: Dead-eye**

Scratching the back of his head, John yawned and checked the time on the heads up display of his Commando.

_08:17_

_Figures_, he thought. _I'm probably at the bottom of the totem pole here and I'm the only one that bothers to show up early_.Shifting in his seat, John stared out at the landscape before him. Rolling hills of crimson dust could be seen for miles and the twin morning suns were starting their ascent into the sky, bathing the land in warm rays of light. Cycling through one of his HUD settings, he stopped on the rear view camera, looking for any sign of activity in the large mech bay behind him. He saw none.

Next to the mech bay were the Venza Springs barracks, where John and his crew had spent the evening. The establishment itself was decent-the employees were mindful of their duties and the rooms were nice. The only complaint that he had was the extremely loud ruckus that had woken him up in the wee hours of the morning. A quick chat with the groundskeeper later revealed that some pilots from Hansen's Roughriders were staying in the same floor and had invited some...guests that night. Needless to say, John asked for an extra cup of coffee at the breakfast table.

Tired of torso twisting his mech in patrol fashion, John pulled up the mission objectives that Marcus had downloaded the previous day.

_Primary: GO TO NAV ALPHA_  
_Primary: GO TO NAV BETA_  
_Primary: GO TO NAV GAMMA_  
_Primary: GO TO NAV DELTA_

_Primary: DUSTOFF AT POINT: VENZA SPRINGS BARRACKS_

John shook his head, wondering why he even needed someone to come along with him. The furthest Nav Point was Nav Delta and John noted that even that was a mere 700 meters away from his current position.

Just as he was about to begin a test of his coolant flush system, John noticed that the wide doors of the mech bay were beginning to open up. _Finally..._

Out stepped four mechs, with the frontman being a 65 ton CPLT-C1 stock configuration Catapult, at least according to John's Commando's sensors. As the Catapult made its way forward with its recognizable 'chicken walk', the other three mechs soon came into view. There was a Panther, a Bombardier, and a Thug. All mechs were identified to be part of Hansen's Roughriders, though the unmistakable skull-in-shield insignia emboldened on their machines were more than enough proof of that.

The Catapult settled itself slightly ahead of John while the other three mechs took off in a northeasterly route, probably beginning their own patrol cycle. A gruff, commanding voice blared over the intercom, jolting John back to full attention.

"Hey there, Kid. I don't know what your name is and I don't particularly care. So I'm going to call you Kid throughout your stay here, got it?" John did not answer, mainly because the unknown voice continued without waiting for a response.

"Anyway, my name is Unther Davis. But call me...Dead-eye. I _love_ to shoot things and don't even think about pulling any crap with me or I'll turn that flimsy piece of shit you call a mech into scrap. Got it? Good." John's reticle was getting ever so closer to Dead-eye's mech, but he knew that if he took even a single shot, his carcass would be outbound to Outreach in the blink of an eye.

"I do want to apologize for the late start. I know that we were supposed to go at 08:00, but some of my hired hands got a little out of control last night. I don't really care much personally, as long as they get the job done on the battlefield", Dead-eye paused for a moment before continuing. "...And I hope you can too."

John's eye twitched at the subtle jab, but his mech remained stoic.

"Today, we're going out on a little patrol. There have been some reports of pirate activity on Venza and the DC wants us to check out some areas. Nothing too hard, there won't be any pirates I'm sure. And if there are...well just let ole Dead-eye here take care of em", Dead-eye said, letting out a disturbing cackle. "Well Kid, you ready to get started?"

Rolling his eyes, John thought to himself _I've been ready since I got here you egotistical prick_. But over the intercom, he replied with a hearty "Yes, sir!" and throttled his mech's acceleration in the direction of Nav Alpha.


	6. The Longest Patrol

Chapter 5: The Longest Patrol

Silence pervaded the cockpit of John's Commando yet to him, it was music to his ears. John had muted his intercom once they had reached Nav Alpha, not wanting to listen to anymore of Dead-eye's crackpot stories that he felt were more appropriate for a barroom setting instead of a patrol. The designated nav point was empty, as John had suspected and they quickly continued onto the next objective.

John checked his HUD and noticed that Nav Beta was only 200 meters away. _I guess I'll flip this line of communication back open now. I'm turning it off once we're headed to Gamma though._

"...And so there I was on Taeron IV. I had two Clints on me in the front and three Jenners in the rear. With only one salvo of LRM left I...", Dead-eye stopped momentarily as they were both interrupted by the automatic phrase of _Nav Beta reached._ spoken by their onboard computers. John silently thanked the soulless computer voice as Dead-eye's voice could no longer be heard. John noted that they were making excellent time on their objectives as he torso twisted his mech left to right.

"No enemies here, sir.", he reported over the intercom. As John cycled through the radar and prepared to throttle to Nav Gamma, he noticed that Dead-eye was completely still. His mech's torso was tilted slightly to the northwest, the exact direction that the three other mechs took off in. Before John could shoot an inquiry, Dead-eye frantically shouted "Shut down! NOW!".

John immediately obeyed his orders and shut down his mech, watching the arms of his Commando go limp like a rotten banana. Although John did lose focus once in a while, he was never one to back down from a fight. But this completely alien tone of voice that Dead-eye had shown concerned John. _God, what's going on? Dead-eye may be a pompous jackass, but even I know he wouldn't be worried about anything on Venza unless it was something big._

Seconds passed, then minutes. John could feel a bead of sweat rolling down his neck ever so slowly as he scanned the horizon in front of him. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but John knew that looks could be deceiving especially in a combat situation. Feeling his throat parched, John wanted nothing more than to power up his mech and throttle back to the barracks for a nice cola. But he knew that powering up his mech in an unknown situation like this would be foolhardy. Shifting around in his seat, John's mind wandered to the possible causes of this alarm. _Pirates perhaps? The Combine did say that there was light pirate activity here but then why would Dead-eye get so alarmed? Perhaps there's a bomb threat back at the barracks? What if Venza is being outright invaded? The Commonwealth and the Combine haven't gotten along greatly recently from what I've read..._

John's thoughts were soon dispelled by a small crackle over his intercom.

"Kid, you there?", asked a gruff voice who was obviously Dead-eye.

John wondered if he was hallucinating as his mech was completely powered down, but he suddenly realized that there was a battery powered two-way emergency radio onboard his mech that operated at very low frequency bands as to avoid detection in times of crisis.

Finding the button for the radio, he pushed it and responded "Here, sir."

John thought he heard a sigh of relief as Dead-eye's voice boomed over the radio, "Alright good. Thought you might've had a heart attack or something. Anyway, we're clear to power up now so do it and then we can talk without draining the emergency battery."

John did as he was told, powering his Commando back up.

_REACTOR ONLINE_

_PLANET: VENZA_

_SENSORS ONLINE_

_AMBIENT TEMPERATURE IS 95.1 DEGREES_

_WEAPONS ONLINE_

_LOCAL TIME IS 9:54 GST_

_ALL SYSTEMS NOMINAL_

After the automatic power up checks were complete, John questioned the Roughrider commander about what had just happened.

"Well Kid, it's like this. Those three mechs you saw when we first started are three of my finest men. They had a patrol route pretty far from where we are in the northwest. I don't know if the DC told you this , but that's where all the reported pirate activity is."

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Dead-eye continued, "You see, one of my men detected an assault lance on his radar. No visual but if that radar was right, he wouldn't have lived to tell the tale of a visual in his light ass Panther. None of them would honestly. Shutting down was just a precaution in case there were any other units in the area."

John furrowed his brow at this unpleasant and unexpected news. _This can't be right. Pirates with assault lances? It's not unheard of but I thought only pirates way out in the Periphery would have those kinds of units stocked up_.

Dead-eye continued, oblivious to John's thoughts "Anyway, let's just finish this patrol and get our asses back to the barracks. My lance is already within 500 meters of base and we'll get a debriefing when we get back.".

John was silent but Dead-eye paid no mind as he began moving toward Nav Gamma. Letting the severity of the situation sink in for a moment, John finally headed for Nav Gamma as well.


	7. The First Strike

**Chapter 6: The First Strike**

Staring up into the darkness, John wondered what he had gotten himself into.

_Pirates with assault lances on a simple training campaign. Just my luck..._

Dead-eye's crew had repeated exactly what he had said at their scare at Nav Beta earlier that day. Turk, the pilot of the Panther that had spotted the enemy contacts on his radar, was visibly shaken as he went over the list of mechs that he saw when he cycled through the targets.

_"I saw two Atlases, a Cyclops, a Stalker, and an Annihilator. I swear to god I was about ready to shit my pants!"_

_Dead-eye remained silent as he blew a thin ring of smoke from his mouth, courtesy of his cheap cigarette, but soon asked, "They didn't chase you?"_

_"No sir, they were about 1.5 kilometers away. I had a new Regias model radar upgrade installed before we got to Venza to increase my radar range. I don't think they noticed me, but I wasn't sticking around to find out..."_

_"Mm...", Dead-eye's demeanor had changed significantly, almost as if he would not allow himself to show fear in front of his lance. He continued, "Well I've informed our DC employers and they've put their elite guards on high alert.", he paused for a moment before continuing. "Even though that doesn't exactly instill confidence in me, we're still going to finish this campaign. With luck we won't run into any enemy mech units tomorrow."_

_Getting up and dusting himself off, Dead-eye walked over to a portable blackboard that had a map of the immediate area plastered onto it. He pointed at an area to the northwest of the barracks and said, "This is where that assault lance supposedly is". He then slid his finger down to an area slightly to the south of their current location and said, "This is where our next objective is. We've got a small airfield that we need to take out. We're going to have to get up pretty early so that those fighters don't make it up off the ground."_

_Sitting back down, Dead-eye's gazed wandered from person to person, finally settling on John. John did not flinch, although the piercing gaze did unsettle him._

_"We also have intel on a supply convoy that will be headed there. No armed escorts from what I've heard but that is obviously subject to change". Putting out his cigarette, he sternly asked, "Any questions?"_

_After a few moments of silence, Dead-eye got up and warily said, "Good. I'll see you men at 0:400 in the morning. You're all dismissed."_

John had confidence in Dead-eye's words, but he was still worried about the mission that was slated to start in less than four hours.

_What happens when we get to the airfield and we're met by that assault lance?_

He shuddered at the thought and rolled over in his lumpy mattress, determined to shake off the negative thought as well as to get some much needed rest. Eventually his wandering mind led him to the land of dreams, where he was met with images of imposing mechs that closed on him at every turn. Just as they were about to overtake him, John's alarm woke him up.

_0:400, time to get started..._

* * *

John's eyes struggled to stay open as his mech trudged along the rocky terrain. His Commando was on auto-pilot, en route to the designated nav point of the pirate airfield-Nav Alpha. Ahead of him were Dead-eye and Turk, torso twisting in the darkness as they moved along. Behind him was Totza, a quiet fellow of Hansen's Roughriders who piloted a Thug. His job was to cover the rear in case of a flank and to provide long range fire support with his PPCs. Liam, the last member of the 3-man crew was left behind at the barracks with his Bombardier in case any pirates tried to attack the compound.

_If that assault lance is out there, I don't envy his job..._, John thought to himself grimly.

Looking out at the greenish tinged landscape made possible by standard light amplification technology, John could see the outlines of large mountain peaks in the distance, staggering over the dark horizon like jagged pillars. A sudden static crackled over the intercom, soon replaced by Dead-eye's familiar gruff voice.

"Alright folks, we're coming up on the Nav Point. Make sure you guys are on passive so that we don't attract any unwanted attention, kapeesh?

"Roger that.", yawned John as he toggled his Commando's radar to passive mode, effectively reducing the radar's range to 250 meters. John knew that going passive was crucial if they wanted to strike unimpeded, but the feeling of not knowing where an enemy was coming from was enough to send a shiver down his spine.

The group traveled a little further before stopping behind a small, uneven ridge. They waited there for what seemed like hours before Dead-eye broke the silence,

"It doesn't look like they've noticed us...the airfield should be just over this ridge. We're about 100 meters from it and no alarm has gone off so we should be good to go. Remember we need to make this as fast as possible. Totza and I will take out the hangar and any communications buildings in the field. Kid, you and Turk will target the aircraft. There will be some commercial planes out there along with the fighters, take them all out.", he paused before letting out his trademark cackle. "Once we're finished...don't be afraid of stepping on some heads, if you know what I mean. Are we ready?"

Now fully awake, John calmed himself with a deep breath and replied, "Ready!". Totza and Turk did the same as they all waited anxiously in their mechs.

"Alright let's go! ATTACK!", yelled Dead-eye over the intercom.

John quickly throttled his Commando to full speed, the light mech struggled briefly to overcome the verticality of the ridge, but it soon reached the top, giving John a clean look at the air field.

A small air control tower was situated on the far end of the base, surrounded by crudely constructed barracks and even small tents. A small hangar was nestled behind the control tower along with what seemed like a small communications array. What was once greenish black outlines in John's view soon became a mess of flashing lights as the area was bathed with LRM fire.

John quickly moved his mech to the runway, firing his medium lasers at any flight-capable vehicle he saw. They quickly crumbled under the intense energy output, disintegrating into a ball of flame and ashes. Pivoting to catch a small commercial jet to his right, John noticed Turk blasting away targets with his PPC, softening them up with his SRM-6 while his main weapon reloaded.

"Nice shooting Turk, but save some for me will ya?", John ribbed over the intercom."

Turk responded by discharging a PPC shot right into the cockpit of a pirate fighter that John was getting ready to destroy. John simply chuckled in his cockpit, caught up in the thrill of dispatching this pirate base.

Soon enough the base was leveled. Hints of orange tinged the sky, signaling the approach of the Venzan double sunrise, as the group surveyed the damage. Heaps of burnt scrap metal and ashes were all that was left of the former pirate air field. Any pirate personnel had been taken care of, either by laser fire or a mech's foot.

"Nice work gentlemen", started Dead-eye over the intercom. "These scumbags are going to have a hell of a harder time coordinating anything without air support. Now before we celebrate too much, we still have work to do. Check your computers for Nav Point Beta. We're probably not going to make it to Beta, but that's the general direction we're going to be headed in. Intel suggests we've got some pirate supply vehicles en route to this airfield...or former airfield I suppose", cackling once again.

_I don't think I'll ever get used to that..._, thought John as he imagined the veteran mechwarrior sitting in his cockpit laughing manically.

"Anyway let's move to intercept and let's do it fast. I don't want to come back to base seeing Liam's corpse. Let's move it!", Dead-eye shouted as his Catapult began moving toward Nav Beta. His crew soon followed, with John bringing up the rear this time.

_Alright, here we go again!_ mused John as he noticed the brilliant orange streaks in the sky becoming more and more prominent, coloring the dark landscape before them.


End file.
